Title:Cross Fire
Author(s): James Patterson
Publisher(s): Little Brown and Company
Pages: 384
Year: 2010
Format: MOBI
Language: English
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The random article:
This whole stretch, from the Key Bridge down to Thompson Boat Center, was hopping with tourists, locals, and students, al taking advantage of the spring weather before the real humidity set in. Some inevitable number of them were bent over their laptop computers, and some number of those, no doubt, had satel ite Internet connections.
Mitch and Denny would kil two birds while they were here: split up to sel their papers while they looked for a good mark.
After about half an hour, some goofbal frat boys Denny had his eye on got up from their stuff to play a little Ultimate on the lawn. He sat down in the grass nearby and motioned to Mitch, who took up a position on the fence by the river.
Once the game had moved about as far from Denny as it was going to get, he gave Mitch the next signal — a scratch on the top of his head — and Mitch went into his crazy dance.
He screamed at the top of his lungs. He flapped his arms. He grabbed on to the fence and shook it back and forth like a crazy man in a cage. And for at least thirty seconds, every eye in the immediate area was on him.
Denny worked fast. He slipped one of the frat boys’ laptops — a sweet little MacBook Air — into his stack of papers, stood up, and hurried away. A second later, he was walking a straight line out of the park.
As he passed under the Whitehurst Freeway, he could stil hear Mitch going at it, way longer than he needed to. No harm done there — they’d have a good laugh about it later, at least the big guy would. Jeez, he loved to laugh.
The Suburban was parked halfway up the hil , on a side street near the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. Denny climbed in, fired up the computer, and got right to work.
Ten minutes later, he was back out of the car, with only one thing on his mind.
He walked around the block to a rickety wooden staircase that led down to the old canal, twenty-five feet below street level. The crushed-gravel towpath that ran alongside it was popular with joggers, but it didn’t take more than half a cigarette before he got a few moments’ privacy.
He leaned down and gently slipped the laptop into the brackish water, where it quickly sank to the bottom, probably never to be seen again. It was almost too easy.
Mission accomplished, Denny thought, and smiled to himself as he started back up the stairs to go find that wild man, Mitch.
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